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I find them on the sacred peak where everything began.

The wind carries their scents to me before I see them—Calliope's crisp sweetness tangled with my brother's copper-sharp rage. Steam rises from my scales as I bank through ancient stone teeth, wings catching currents that feel wrong somehow, heavier than they should be. The air itself seems to resist my passing, thick with power that makes my blood sing with recognition.

Through our bond, I feel Calliope's fear spike sharply. The sensation drives me forward faster, each wingbeat carrying me closer to where my brother holds my wife captive on a narrow ledge. Ice coats every surface, but it's not Calliope's doing—the patterns are too old, too strange, spiraling in ways that hurt to look at directly.

When I catch sight of them, something in my chest cracks open.

Ulric looms over her in dragon form, his scales catching weak sunlight. The brother I once played with, trained with, swore to protect, has become something twisted—something that makes the very mountain seem to recoil. Steam rises where his claws touch sacred stone, and the ancient runes carved into the rock pulse with sickly light at each point of contact.

But it's Calliope who truly catches my attention. My fierce, beautiful wife, somehow still defiant even bound and threatened. Frost spreads from where she kneels, forming patterns that echo the mountain's own ancient markings. Our child's magic pulses within her, reaching for me even as Ulric's corrupt power tries to suppress it.

I don't hesitate. Can't hesitate. Not anymore.

My roar splits the sky like thunder as I dive, tucking my wings close to pick up speed. The sound carries all my fury, all my grief, all my desperate need to protect what's mine. Behind me, my warriors fan out in practiced formations, but I barely register their presence. All my focus narrows to that ledge, to my wife, to the brother who dares threaten everything I hold dear.

Ulric's massive head snaps up at my approach.

"Brother." His dragon-voice carries that knife-edge mockery I've come to hate. "Come to watch your legacy die?"

I crash onto the ledge with enough force to crack ancient stone, partially transforming as I land. Scales ripple beneath my skin as I struggle to contain the dragon's rage that threatens to consume me. Steam pours from my mouth with each breath, turning the air around me to fog.

"Let her go." The words emerge in a growl that's barely human. "Last warning."

Ulric's laugh shakes loose avalanches on distant peaks.

"Warning? You still think you have the right to warn me about anything?" His tail lashes against sacred stone, scattering centuries of ice. "Look at her, brother. Look what your precious queen has become—carrying that abomination, that thing that should never have been."

"Don't." Smoke curls thicker from my mouth as my control slips further. "Don't speak of them."

But he doesn't stop. Can't stop. I see the madness burning in his eyes, any lucidity there replaced by something fevered and wrong.

"Did you really think you could keep this power for yourself? That the world would allow such a union?" His claws dig deeper into ancient rock. "The gods don’t care. The gods want you dead, brother—"

The mountain itself seems to cut him off. A groan emanates from deep within the stone, a sound of such ancient fury that even my dragon blood runs cold. The runes beneath our feet flare brighter, their light catching on ice crystals in patterns that seem almost alive.

Through our bond, I feel Calliope's magic surge despite whatever binds it. The air around us grows impossibly thick with power—not just hers, not just mine, but something older. Something that makes my teeth ache and my scales ripple faster beneath my skin.

"You feel it too," Calliope calls out to me, and there's something in her voice I've never heard before—a certainty that steals my breath. "They’re not happy with him. They want us to kill him.”

The voices start then—whispers in the wind that speak in languages I shouldn't understand but somehow do, carrying the weight of centuries of sacrifice.

"Enough!" Ulric's roar sounds desperate now. "Your gods can't save you. Your magic can't protect you. I'll see you both dead before I let you keep this power for yourselves!"

He launches himself at me with all the fury of his madness.

I meet him head-on, completing my transformation just as his claws would have found my throat. Our bodies crash together with enough force to crack the ancient stone beneath us. Dragon-fire fills the air, gold flame meeting black in explosions that shake the very foundations of the peak.

I'm larger, stronger, but Ulric fights with the desperate intensity of someone with nothing left to lose. His teeth find my shoulder, tearing through scales that should be impenetrable. The pain barely registers through my fury. My own claws rake his sides, drawing blood that steams in the bitter air.

We roll dangerously close to the ledge's edge, a tangle of wings and teeth and ancient hatred. Far below, the valley yawns like a hungry mouth, waiting to swallow us both. I hear my warriors crying out, but I can't spare the focus to answer. Can't think of anything except protecting Calliope, ending this threat to my family once and for all.

"You never understood!" Ulric's voice cracks like breaking ice even through his dragon-form. "Never saw what they did to us, how they twisted us into these…these monsters—"

My tail catches him across the jaw, sending him staggering. "The only monster here is you, Ulric!"

My once-brother’s flames crash against my defense, but something else rises to meet them—a wall of pure winter that must be Calliope's doing. Ice spreads from the ancient stone beneath our feet, trying to claim my brother's claws even as steam rises from his scales.

"Can't you feel it?" I snarl as we circle each other. "This place rejects you. Everything you've become—"

"Everything I've become?" His laugh holds an edge of hysteria. "What about you, brother? Still playing at being king, still pretending you deserve any of this?" His tail lashes against stone. "You let them die! Let them burn while you did nothing—"

The accusation hits like a physical blow. Images flash through my mind—our parents' bodies on the Sanctum floor, smoke rising from scorched stone, Ulric's screams as guards held us back. But I force the memories away. I can't let him distract me. Can't let him twist this into something it's not.

"They would be ashamed of what you've become," I tell him, and I see the words strike home. "Everything they taught us about family, about protecting what matters—"

His roar of fury shakes loose more snow from distant peaks. He comes at me again, all precision lost to madness, flames pouring from his jaws in a torrent that should melt stone. But something rises to meet his fire—not my own flames, but ancient magic drawn from the very mountain itself. Ice and fire collide in explosions that light up the storm-dark sky.

The runes beneath our feet pulse brighter with each clash, their light catching on frost in ways that form almost-recognizable patterns. Through the chaos, I glimpse Calliope working at her bonds, her own magic beginning to break free of whatever curse my brother placed upon her. Our child's power pulses between us like a captive star, harmonizing with the mountain's ancient song.

"You think you can protect them?" Ulric's voice carries mockery even through his dragon-form. "Think you can keep them safe? You couldn't even save our own blood—"

I slam into him before he can finish, driving us both dangerously close to the precipice. My teeth find his throat, tasting copper and smoke as I tear through his scales. He thrashes beneath me, claws raking my sides, but I barely feel the pain. All I can think of is Calliope's fear through our bond, our child's magic reaching for me, everything I stand to lose if I fail here.

"I am not that child anymore," I snarl, punctuating each word with another strike. "Not the boy who couldn't save them. Not the brother who trusted you. I am king.”

The voices in the wind rise to a crescendo, and suddenly I understand acutely that this place is a judgment ground.

Here, betrayers face divine justice today.

Smoke rises between us as my brother's blood meets ancient stone. The runes flare brighter, their light catching on his scales in ways that seem almost alive. I feel the weight of centuries pressing down—all the rituals performed here, all the sacrifices made, all the oaths kept and broken.

Dozens of dragons circle us overhead, not yet descending, waiting. They know it is a dragon’s honour to fight such battles alone.

Should I die, they’ll know who the new king is. Should I live, they’ll soar back over my city to the ground far below.

"The world abandoned us!" Ulric's voice cracks with desperation. “ They abandoned us!”

"No, brother." The words emerge in a growl that carries all my grief, all my fury, all my desperate need to end this. "You abandoned everything they taught us. Everything we were meant to be. When you’re dead soon, I won’t mourn you.”

My brother twists beneath me with impossible strength, throwing me back against stone that cracks under the impact. I hear Calliope scream as he launches himself at me one final time, all precision lost to madness.

"Then let's finish what started that day! Let's see if you can save them this time—”

But as he moves to strike, ice spreads like an arrow shot from a crossbow out across my brother’s body, from Calliope’s direction, crawling up his legs despite the heat pouring from his scales.

I see real fear flash in his eyes as he realizes what's happening—what this place has judged him to be. What my wife has judged him to be, the once and future queen.

"You've become everything they warned us against." My voice carries all the grief of years wasted, of trust betrayed, of bonds broken beyond repair. "Everything they died trying to prevent. In the afterlife, I hope they find it in their hearts to forgive your treachery. If I was them, I wouldn’t.”

Through our bond, I feel Calliope's magic finally break free of the last of its bindings. Winter storm meets dragon-fire as our powers surge together, harmonizing with the mountain's ancient song. Our child's presence pulses between us, lending strength to us both.

Ulric thrashes against the ice claiming him, but it's too late. The magic that once accepted our bloodline now rejects him utterly, seeing him for what he's become—an oath-breaker, a kinslayer, a perversion of everything our line was meant to protect.

"Arvoren—"

For just a moment, I hear the boy he once was in that voice. The brother I loved, the child who laughed as we played in these very mountains.

"Please—"

But that boy is long dead. Only the monster remains.

My flames catch him full in the throat as he tries to speak again. There's no hesitation now, no mercy. Just the clean certainty of ending a threat to everything I hold dear. His frozen scales blacken and peel as fire meets ice, their magic combining into something that burns beyond mere flesh.

His eyes bulge huge, upturned toward the sky. I see pain on his face, a kind of deep sadness, there and then gone.

Then, slowly as a mountain falling, I watch Ulric’s monstrously huge body topple backward off the edge of the mountain, into the chasm far below us.